The "Feast of Crows" ended with no survivors among the high-ranking royals, save for those who fled into the night. Alaric and Kaelen had mortally wounded each other in the sanctuary of the god they claimed to serve. The Seventh Princess, betrayed and broken, disappeared into the burning streets.
The Great Houses and the Guardian family stood outside the Cathedral, horrified. The bloodline was gone. The empire was headless.
Suddenly, a column of golden fire erupted from the roof of the Cathedral, piercing the night sky. The clouds parted, revealing a moonlight so bright it felt like day. Standing atop the highest spire was a figure in a cloak of shifting shadows.
"People of Argentine!" the voice boomed, carrying a draconic resonance that made the very ground tremble.
The nobles and commoners alike fell to their knees. The figure's eyes were not masked—they were two orbs of molten gold, glowing with a divine light that hadn't been seen in generations.
"The era of the False Dragons is over!" Livius cried out, his voice echoing through every alleyway and palace corridor. "You looked for a king among the greedy, and you found only ash. I am the son of the North Wing. I am the Ghost you ignored. I am Livius Mortem von Argentine!"
He raised his hand, and a shockwave of mana rippled outward, extinguishing the fires that raged across the city.
"I do not seek your throne today," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the terrified Dukes. "I seek your sins. For every drop of blood my siblings spilled, I will take a pound of your corruption. I will return on my eighteenth year. Until then... I will be watching."
With a flare of light, he vanished.
In the silence that followed, the people didn't scream in terror. They whispered. They whispered of the "Golden Ghost" who had stopped the fire. They whispered of the Prince who lived in the North Wing. And for the first time in years, the people of the empire felt something they had long forgotten: hope.
Back at the clock tower, Livius stripped off his singed cloak. His hands were shaking slightly from the massive mana output. Cian handed him a glass of water and a new ledger.
"That was a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Cian asked with a smirk.
Livius took a sip of water, his golden eyes dimming back to their calm, cold state. "They needed a god to fear. Now, let's get to work. We have six months until my birthday, and a lot of nobles still think they're above the law."